


you could still be what you want to

by kunimi_blep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, and i wrote this for comfort, but i'm not lol, futakuchi is such a strong person, meaning im hurt, so it is a, ventfic lmsksjj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi_blep/pseuds/kunimi_blep
Summary: oikawa's is the only voice louder than the ones in futakuchi's head sometimes.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	you could still be what you want to

"Why are you still awake?" Oikawa's voice is raspy from sleep, struggling against unconsciousness, probably. Futakuchi doesn't have it in himself to feel guilty.  
  
Futakuchi looks at his clock, not surprised that the red lights mockingly blink at him from his bedside table to flash a _2:39 AM_. Although, maybe he didn't notice that he'd been staring up at the ceiling for close to three hours now.  
  
"Why are _you_?" Though he means it to come off as accusatory as Oikawa's voice had been, there is no real bite to Futakuchi's answer.  
  
" _You're_ the one who called _me_ ," Oikawa replies, instantly, and whether it is out of impatience or simply in response, Futakuchi can't tell.  
  
Futakuchi closes his eyes, puts his arm over them. "Shouldn't I have?" He doesn't know how to apologize, not for this.  
  
The silence that passes before Oikawa answers him is agonizing, and it only takes all of these eleven seconds for Futakuchi to regret calling Oikawa on a whim-- except it wasn't on a whim.  
  
He'd tossed and turned and tossed and turned and cried, maybe a little, and pulled at his hair, knowing perfectly well that only Oikawa could take him away from all of this, whatever this is, disease or medicine.  
  
"Futakuchi," Oikawa says now, voice devoid of any teasing, no sleepiness left either. Alert, understanding, as he always is when he's serious. "What's wrong?"  
  
Tears instantly prickle at the corner of his eyes, and he shuts them tighter to hold it in, presses his forearm against them harder. "I don't know."  
  
He hears Oikawa breathe out, and he tries his best to breathe, too. It gets a little hard, sometimes.  
  
"Hey." The simple word comes as a whisper, but if Futakuchi concentrates enough, he can pretend Oikawa is right there with him, to touch him like he always does, to hold him like he often does, to kiss him like he sometimes does, maybe. "Hey, you there?"  
  
The breath Futakuchi releases shudders out of his mouth. "Yeah," he whispers back.  
  
"I'm here." The voice is a little louder, but not much above a whisper. "I'm here."  
  
"I know," Futakuchi breathes in, doesn't know when or how to breathe out. His chest feels tight and a tear has managed to escape, rolled out of his shut left eye, and as it slides down his temple, he hears sheets rustling on the other end of the line. Maybe Oikawa has sat up, maybe he has shifted, maybe he has turned. Futakuchi stays still, stares at the ceiling until his eyes burn more.  
  
"You're strong," Oikawa declares, confident but gentle. Futakuchi knows this. _Fuck_ , he knows this. He's strong, he is, and he's not fragile, he _isn't_. No disease is ever too strong that medicine can't handle it.  
  
But there are nights like this one, when he feels weak, the voices in his head much louder than the memories of his teammates cheering him on, than the voices of his senpai yelling out encouragement, than the applause and cheers of an audience when they win.

There are nights like this one, when he feels weak, the voices in his head much louder than his little sister asking to be carried, than the shows he and his family watch together, than the sound of his parents telling him they'd be proud whatever career Futakuchi chooses for himself.

There are nights like this one, when he feels weak, the voices in his head much louder than the memories of Oikawa's teasing, than the songs Oikawa had sent him, than the sound of Oikawa's voice when he tells him he loves him, but not directly. Never directly. _Did you eat already?_ and _I think you'll like this song_. and _The sour gummies you liked were out of stock so I went to another shop_.

"You're strong, Kenji," Oikawa repeats, with his name this time, as if he wants to make sure Futakuchi hears, knows Oikawa is saying this about him, to him, for him.

"I am," Futakuchi affirms, though it takes him everything to do so. "I'm strong."

"Whatever it is that you're worrying about," Oikawa starts, and Futakuchi tries to ignore the way his fingers tremble just that little bit, at knowing Oikawa _knows_ , "It will pass."

"It will," Futakuchi affirms again. He takes a deep breath in. "It will pass."

"if you're thinking about the team, they'll do fine even when you leave." Oikawa knows the first of Futakuchi's worries and addresses it easily. "The way you pulled the team up and held them high when your senpai left, that's what will happen, too, when you graduate. They'll still be the same strong and amazing team."

Futakuchi does not hide how much the team and volleyball mean to him, but hearing this makes him defensive. It's been two years since Oikawa graduated and the team he'd left behind was a rival to Futakuchi's.

"Of course, I trained them well, after all."

Oikawa chuckles. "And if you're thinking about what you're doing after graduation," Oikawa knows the second of Futakuchi's worries and addresses it carefully. "You'll get somewhere. There's a future ahead, even if you don't feel like there is. You only feel stuck now because you aren't there yet."

Futakuchi's shaky breaths probably carry well over the phone, but he still tries to hide them by trying not to breathe at all. Defensive, still, he says, "Of course. I'll go get that scholarship and make my parents happy."

"Good," is Oikawa's answer, still gentle. Futakuchi wants to make fun of this entire situation, because he isn't used to this. Oikawa is never this serious, never misses the chance to tease. But at this moment, it feels embarrassing to be talked to like this; he feels like a kid even though Oikawa has never and will never use his age over him.

There's one more thing Futakuchi has been worrying about, something that has been gnawing at his insides the way his nails have been against his pillow the past three hours. It's one thing he doesn't want to admit either, has never voiced out, never opened up to Oikawa about, but if Oikawa can guess, he won't even be surprised--

"And if you're worried about me," Oikawa says now, slowly, like he already knows, has always known that this is the third of Futakuchi's worries. "I'll still be yours."

Futakuchi wants to counter, because this isn't the medicine he needs. They aren't together, Oikawa isn't _his_ , and that's the disease. The last thing Futakuchi needs now is Oikawa making promises he can't keep.

"Wherever you decide to go," he continues, and Futakuchi listens, breaths coming to him a little labored, yet a little easier somehow, in an inexplicable way. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll still be yours." 

"You..." _aren't mine_ , Futakuchi wants to answer, wants to call him out on this.

"I love you, you know?"

All the chill leaves his body at once, disintegrating into dust and flowing out of him. His chest warms, and it's terrifying, truly, how Oikawa is the only one who can do this to him, with words he doesn't know he means.

This isn't the only thing Futakuchi's been worried about. This is nowhere near the only thing. And yet, even when Oikawa doesn't say anything, pressure him for an answer, tell him he's being mean, take it back, Futakuchi melts, and the voices in his head quiet down for the first time since he's gotten in bed.

"I mean it this time," Oikawa whispers, voice sounding unnecessarily urgent.

Futakuchi knows Oikawa would never lie to him. 

"This is the only time you've ever said that," Futakuchi corrects, even thought it feels like he's heard it so many times already. "Don't say things just to make me feel better."

"Alright." Futakuchi can _hear_ Oikawa smiling, because he knows Futakuchi, and he knows that he's gotten his message across, knows that Futakuchi has needed to hear it even if he denies it. "But I love you, and I mean it."

"Alright," Futakuchi mimics Oikawa's tone. The trail that the tear had taken down the side of his face has dried, and he feels it cracking a little when he smiles.

"Go to sleep," Oikawa urges, though his voice betrays the slight disappointment of the words not being returned. Oikawa can be dumb like that sometimes.

Futakuchi knows he'll easily fall asleep this time, can feel every ounce of exhaustion crashing down and replacing the tenseness in his body.

"I love you, too," Futakuchi says in a rush and hangs up, on a whim-- except it wasn't on a whim.

He'd tossed and turned and tossed and turned and cried, maybe a little, and pulled at his hair, knowing perfectly well that only Oikawa could take him away from all of this, because he needed to know that Oikawa loves him, loves him back, even if he already knew, even if he already knows.

His eyelids get heavy and he's dragged deep into sleep in less than a minute, the weight of everything having been lifted, leaving him light and at ease. The disease has let him go, if only for tonight.

He isn't awake to feel his phone vibrate with Oikawa's text _good night._

But in the morning, later, when he wakes up, when the medicine rushes through his veins and settles in his bones, he'll call Oikawa. When his head is clear, when his voice is firm, when his chest is free, when his heartbeat is stable, Futakuchi will tell Oikawa that he means it this time, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is. i've just been sad lately haha watch me make futakuchi suffer my anxieties instead while i listen to [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/5Zz8mrmVVhOq3iuv8Gh0MX) on repeat. also, pretend this fic doesn't exist thanks. i'm just _**going through it**_. writing this was cathartic at least. i feel better now
> 
> ema if you see this, im sorry i did this to your song rec haha,,,


End file.
